The mattress was stiff beneath her, the wool blanket scratchy against her bare arms. Daenerys lay on her back in the narrow berth, hands folded above her head, eyes fixed on the low ceiling beams. The lantern on the wall swayed with the ship's slow roll, casting shifting bars of gold and shadow over the planks. She was still trying to make sense of what had happened, what she had agreed to.
Minutes earlier, in the captain's quarters, her throat had closed around the words, but still they came.
"I… accept."
Elric's smug smirk had bloomed then without hesitation, he'd crossed the room, his boots soundless on the carpet, and planted a deep claiming kiss on her lips, untouched by any man.
She had shoved him away, fury and shock surging in equal measure, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. No man had dared kiss her before.
He only laughed maddeningly. That laugh was still in her ears now, and she hated the way it lingered.
"Was I the first to claim your lips?" he had said, half-mocking.
"Do—don't do that!" she'd stammered, cheeks burning.
"Did you not just accept to be my woman?" His voice had dipped, suggestive, almost playful.
"T-that's…" She had opened her mouth but no words had formed, only the soundless struggle of her own breath.
In the space of a heartbeat, he had closed the distance between them, moving with smooth inevitability. His hands had found her again, firm and certain. "You're going to have to do much more than that, my dear."
Not knowing what to say—tired of standing there like a fool with her mouth agape, she turned sharply and walked out without bothering to shut the door.
From behind her, his voice had followed, low and amused. "This is going to be fun."
---
Daenerys lay motionless on the stiff mattress, the rough wool blanket coarse against her skin. The weight of the captain's kiss lingered on her lips, a ghost of touch that sent a tremor through her stillness.
Outside, the ship rocked gently in the dark waters, the sea's breath whispering softly against the hull.
Her eyes traced the low beams of the ceiling, shadows twisting and turning with the lantern's sway.
The words he had spoken echoed in her mind, You can become mine. You're going to have to do much more than that, my dear. This is going to be fun.
Fear curled deep within her, but beneath it flickered something darker, a strange knot of curiosity. She clenched her fingers tight around the coarse blanket, nails digging into the fabric.
Her thoughts drifted to the crew she had glimpsed earlier, the men who followed Elric without question, fierce and hungry like the sea predators they took their symbol from. She remembered their faces, wild and rough, marked by years at sea and countless battles. How had they come to swear such loyalty to him?
Elric himself remained a puzzle. His smile, sharp and knowing. His voice like the waves of the ocean, sometimes calm and steady, but could turn harsh and violent. The way he moved, gliding silently, every motion measured.
What kind of man is he? What would she find buried beneath that cold ocean gaze?
She rose from the bed, her bare feet meeting the rough wooden floor. Moving to the small slit of a window set low in the hull, she pressed her hand against the cold wood, peering out into the fog-laden night. The world beyond was nothing but darkness and mist, the sea stretching endlessly into the unknown.
The salt air crept in, carrying the scent of tar and wet rope. The ship groaned with every sway and creak, as if alive and breathing. Alone in the quiet, the vastness of the ocean seemed to echo the hollowness growing in her chest.
Her fingers found a torn scrap of cloth on the table, a fragment of her dress, dirt-stained and frayed. She unfolded it slowly, the fabric fragile between her fingertips.
Her voice was barely more than a whisper, swallowed by the night. "I will not be a slave. Not ever."
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